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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23966356">three days on a drunken sin.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mementomoreeyes/pseuds/mementomoreeyes'>mementomoreeyes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Les Misérables - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Elves, Fae &amp; Fairies, M/M, Mermaids, Oblivious Enjolras, Pining Grantaire, Spells &amp; Enchantments, cottagecore elements, listen the only fully human character is grantaire, mushroom circles, witch jehan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:35:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,143</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23966356</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mementomoreeyes/pseuds/mementomoreeyes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“what’s that!” someone called out, causing grantaire’s head to snap up in fear. there was someone half-hidden behind a tree trunk, eyeing him with a curious smile. “that thing you’re tapping on, what is it?” grantaire tried to respond, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly, but he couldn’t find the words. he was stunned to silence - there were others here. he wasn’t alone. “can’t you talk?” he looked up again, and the person was closer now, wings fluttering behind their back.<br/><i>...wings?!</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Les Mis Big Bang: Quarantine Edition</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>three days on a drunken sin.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is my entry for the les mis big bang!! i had a lot of fun working on it, and i hope you enjoy it as much as i do!!<br/>my beta for this fic was <a href="https://anagramofanakin.tumblr.com/">anagramofanakin</a> on tumblr!! thanks for catching my mistakes ana 🥺<br/>title is from work song by hozier!<br/>and if you’re interested, the playlist grantaire makes in this fic is <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5j2dEqq54xEttiSM8FMdYl?si=yAJ0Dp_4T96iuK65LOCueg">right here!</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Sweet Caroline, bah bah bah…” Grantaire slurred. His bag was half-full of mushrooms, and he had a flask on his hip half-full of… something. He couldn’t remember what. He grabbed it and took a swig, the alcohol barely burning his throat as it went down. Grantaire sliced a brown-ish mushroom, unsure of what type it was, but still wanting it, and as he dropped it into his bag, he noticed it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a ring of the most beautiful mushrooms he’d ever seen, a few of them faintly pink, others orange and red, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wanted them. He stumbled toward the ring and stepped inside, reaching to cut a mushroom, when he fell to the ground with a shout. Everything was spinning, shaking, he was trembling he couldn’t see anything he was scared scared scared </span>
  <em>
    <span>he wanted to go home he was scared</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was dark </span>
  <em>
    <span>why was it so dark.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Were his eyes open? Could he move? He tried to move his arm and succeeded, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket and reaching for his flask. Fireball. That’s what he was drinking. The slight burn of the cinnamon whiskey trickled down his throat as he took a swig, and his eyes slowly managed to flutter open. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Where the hell was he?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The leaves were pink and almost petal-like, but as he picked one up from the ground they felt just like leaves, leaving him confused. The branches of the trees around him twisted and twirled into magnificent shapes, the trunks curving every which way into beautiful tangles. He’d have to paint these later. They were amazing. The mushrooms around him seemed to give off a pulsing glow, beating like the heart hammering in his own ribcage. Sunlight filtered gently through the trees and onto the ground around him, creating gorgeous swirls and shapes. Where was his phone? He needed pictures of this. He felt around in his jeans pockets, then in his jacket. There it was. He pulled it out and snapped a few pictures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now then. Onto more pressing matters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Siri,” he mumbled, holding down the power button to activate Siri. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No internet connection,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the screen said. Fuck. He didn’t know what to do, he was stranded in a forest that he didn’t recognise, somehow just by stepping into a ring of mushrooms, so he did what he thought was wisest. He sat down on the ground, opened up Spotify, and made a playlist so he had music to wander to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that!” someone called out, causing Grantaire’s head to snap up in fear. There was someone half-hidden behind a tree trunk, eyeing him with a curious smile. “That thing you’re tapping on, what is it?” Grantaire tried to respond, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly, but he couldn’t find the words. He was stunned to silence - there were others here. He wasn’t alone. “Can’t you talk?” He looked up again, and the person was closer now, wings fluttering behind their back. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Wings?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you?” Grantaire asked, sliding his phone into his jacket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A faerie? Haven’t you seen one before?” They stepped closer, and Grantaire noticed that their wings were ripped just slightly. They looked delicate, almost like the wings of a dragonfly, and they flitted lightly in interest. “What were you tapping on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A- a phone?” Grantaire frowned. “Where am I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The forest, duh,” they laughed with an eye roll. “C’mon, you skinned your knee. Can I have your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, but Grantaire was smarter than that. “You may not. What’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> name, hm?” he grinned, catching the fae’s attempted trick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The faerie huffed. “Courfeyrac.” Courfeyrac tilted his head, some of his curls falling over his face. This was when Grantaire noticed the flowers delicately woven into his curls, some entwined into soft twists that were pinned to his head. It was stunning, to say the least. “Come with me, my friend can fix your knee up.” Grantaire slowly stood and reached for his flask, only to find it missing. Courfeyrac held it up with a wide grin. “You want it? Come get it!” he called before dashing off. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Forest smarts!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Grantaire heard before he began to run after the tricky fae. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The forest broke into an open field, the sun shining down into the light blue grass. Courfeyrac was some ways ahead, nearing a wide dirt path, and Grantaire watched as he headed toward a large cottage. Okay, he could get there. He took a few deep breaths before continuing his run, but he tripped over a rock and landed on his arms. He felt his skin sting with another scrape. Fuck, god dammit, why? What did he trip over? He looked back and saw the perpetrator - a large stone. “Fuck you, rock,” he mumbled and looked at his arms, seeing the scrapes against the sides of his forearms where he broke his fall. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>burned.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He got up and looked ahead, seeing Courfeyrac at the cottage talking to someone. Okay, that was the destination, so Grantaire jogged the rest of the way to the cottage. Courfeyrac looked over and grinned, until he noticed the scrapes Grantaire was now boasting. “Yeah. Flask, now,” he frowned, and Courfeyrac returned the metal flask to him. The person Courfeyrac had been talking to had white hair, pale skin, and sharp features, as well as large glasses atop their nose with light pink eyes peering through the thick lenses. Their ears were pointed at the ends, and their clothes appeared nice, as well. However, before he could even offer them a wave or greeting, he was led inside and more or less forced to sit down in the nearest open chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The inside of the cottage was nice. Homey, too. There were plants growing from windowsill pots, from the walls, tables, everywhere. Jars and bowls were scattered around with labels in an unfamiliar language, and finally, Grantaire noticed them. A redhead, hair pulled back into delicate twists and braids, and flowers woven in similar to Courfeyrac’s hair. They mumbled under their breath as they bustled around, opening and closing jars and grabbing things left and right. “Marius, where’d you move my turret shells?” they called. Grantaire watched them search around through more jars before gasping and opening a cabinet. “They’re where they should be? Unheard of!” They pulled two shells out before turning around a corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was strange, but still intriguing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jehan, you forgot- oh!” Grantaire turned to see another person with wings, this one in corduroy overalls and a billowing white shirt, and leaves woven together into a delicate crown. “Are you the one Courfeyrac is talking about?” Grantaire nodded. “One second!” Their wings flapped as they ran after the redhead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire tried to listen to their barely-audible conversation, straining his ears to try and hear. However, he couldn’t make out their words, and he slumped down into the chair. The smell of old books and herbs seasoned the air as Grantaire took a breath in, and he exhaled with a soft smile. It felt… comfortable here. Like a nice home, like… friendliness. Love. Grantaire felt peaceful. “I am so sorry, hang on!” someone called, and the redhead returned, carrying a… bundle of things? A bundle of things in their long, well-worn out apron. “My name is Jehan, what’s yours?” They unloaded their apron onto the table near Grantaire, several jars of different dried flowers and crystals rolling out onto the surface. “I’m not a faerie or anything, don’t worry, witches don’t steal your identity!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe not in this world, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grantaire,” he answered quietly, helping pick up the fallen jars and stand them upright. “Look, I’m sure this is just a big misunderstanding. I don’t know how I got here, I- </span>
  <em>
    <span>ow!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He interrupted himself with a pained hiss as Jehan began to dab some sort of liquid onto his scrapes. “I was cutting mushrooms, as one does, and then some little winged- pixie bitch stole my drink and made me trip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Courfeyrac?” Jehan frowned, and Grantaire nodded. “He does that. Sorry. To answer your question, though, you’re in Maitare. We sometimes get humans like you, but we haven’t for a long time. The others haven’t seen one before. Except Marius and ‘Parnasse, but-!” They laughed softly, then took blades of what looked to be rather wide grass and pressed it over Grantaire’s cuts. “Most humans end up going northeast, to Ronoi.” Grantaire nodded like he knew what Jehan was talking about. These were probably towns, or countries, or something of that sort. “If you want, we can try to figure something out! Like, a spell or something to get you home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A spell?” Grantaire asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I said!” Jehan grinned, sticking their tongue out. “Stay right here. Some of my friends might pass through, but they’re nice. Don’t worry.” Grantaire frowned a bit, confused, and Jehan hurried off to do… something. Hopefully they didn’t need those jars they’d unloaded on the table. “Where’s my amethyst!” Jehan yelled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire took one glance at the table and picked up a purple crystal that he knew for a fact was amethyst. “In here!” he called in response, then turned his attention to watch how the amethyst glittered and reflected in the sunlight, and Jehan rushed in to grab it with a soft thanks, tearing Grantaire’s focus away from the crystal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched a person bustle past with a bag slung over their shoulder, and Grantaire’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull as he realised there were </span>
  <em>
    <span>bones </span>
  </em>
  <span>poking out of the bag. Holy shit. Maybe this person just really liked to collect bones, which was okay, but that was probably one of the last things he was expecting to see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bahorel, I told you that you really should clean those-” someone called a bit frustratedly, and the sound of hooves tapping on the wooden floorboards rang in Grantaire’s ears as a new person entered. “Oh, a human!” they gasped, their ears twitching, and Grantaire was </span>
  <em>
    <span>now </span>
  </em>
  <span>taking notice to the soft brown fur on them, as well as their antlers. “My name is Combeferre, I stay here with Jehan! Where did- oh, you must be the human everyone was saying Courfeyrac found… word travels fast here! Don’t worry, you’re safe with us.” They offered a smile, and Grantaire bit at his lip nervously. They may have said he was safe, but that didn’t ease his anxiety. This was all new, he didn’t even know anyone or what they were doing. He could tell Combeferre was part deer, judging by the soft points of their antlers and the fur covering their legs, and that was pretty cool, but… it was still new, and he still wasn’t entirely comfortable here. “Oh, hang on- Bahorel, you’re getting mud </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere, </span>
  </em>
  <span>let me help-” Combeferre said exasperatedly, then bounded after the person with the bone bag. Bahorel, was that the bone guy’s name? Whatever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened and closed, and someone sneezed loudly from behind, and Grantaire turned to see a short person with… </span>
  <em>
    <span>antennae.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He was going to have to get used to this, if everyone walking past was going to be vaguely not-human. There was a pelt draped over their shoulder, and several jars filled with different coloured liquids hung from a belt around their waist. Their hair had chunks of yellow, and their eyes were </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> not human, but Grantaire couldn’t place how, and then he realised: a half-bee! This person was part bee! “Jehan, I got the nectar you- oh! Oh my gosh!” They grinned and shrugged the pelt off of their shoulder, letting it flop onto the table. What the fuck? “I’m Joly, hi, um-“ Joly adjusted his thick glasses, blinking a few times. “Sorry, I can’t really introduce myself, uh- got stuff to do! Bye!” And with that, he was off, pelt forgotten on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire hesitantly lifted the pelt, uncomfortable with it, but not wanting to seem disrespectful, until he heard a gasp. “My pelt!” Grantaire could feel himself being overwhelmed with all these new people, and he bit down on his lip as another person approached. “You found my pelt, thank you!” They frowned as they picked it up, then carefully slung it over their shoulder. “I’m Bossuet. Where’d you find this? I’ve been looking everywhere…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire’s mouth opened and closed for a moment, desperately trying to find words to answer, and Joly returned. “Oh, that’s where I put it- Bossuet, you left your pelt by the water wheel again! You can’t keep leaving it there, you don’t know what could happen! Then what’re you gonna do? You have to have it </span>
  <em>
    <span>sometimes, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you can’t just wander around out of the water all the time!” he huffed, then brushed off his shoulder, and a cloud of pollen wafted from his clothes and caused R to sneeze. That was it. He got up from his chair, nodded to them, and found his way to the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire stumbled outside and took a deep breath, taking in his surroundings. He hadn’t noticed that some patches of grass </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> grow wider, but now he actually realised it. Weird. It must have been medicinal here, since Jehan had used a blade of it on his scrape, and it didn’t sting anymore. The faint sound of water running enticed him, calmed him, and he felt himself being drawn towards the source. Around the back of the cottage he found a small lake, with someone kneeling beside it. He cautiously approached and sat down, now noticing their nice clothes, almost regal in nature. He raised a brow curiously but didn’t ask any questions, instead electing to gaze out at the water in silence. The water rippled slightly, and Grantaire assumed it was just a fish, until someone emerged from underneath and rested their elbows on the ground. He scooted back with wide eyes, causing them to tilt their head. “What?” they asked as the other finally looked toward Grantaire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You- uh-“ Grantaire stammered, slowly realising the dark blue shape behind them in the water was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>tail, </span>
  </em>
  <span>idle against the surface. “I- huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, haven’t you seen a mermaid before? Don’t be rude,” the other person frowned, and Grantaire noticed their pointed ears poking out from behind long, beautiful, golden curls. “They’re discriminated against as it is, your ignorance doesn’t help her situation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I seriously haven’t,” Grantaire managed to get out, taking a breath. “I didn’t know there were fae, or half-bees, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> like that, I’m just lost and would like to go </span>
  <em>
    <span>home,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he blurted out. He needed a drink. Fuck, this was all a lot. He grabbed his flask and downed the rest; hopefully that would help calm him down. Grantaire readjusted to sit cross-legged in the grass, resting his elbows on his knees and digging the heels of his hands into his eyes as he tried to calm himself down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For what seemed like hours he sat there in silence, shaking and just listening to the lake. Was this some sort of punishment? Was this just a cruel joke? Why was he here, he wanted to go home and make spore prints of his mushrooms. Maybe this was some repayment for foraging something — maybe he accidentally took an endangered mushroom, and the forest decided to say “Hey! Fuck you!” and send him to wherever the hell </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>was. His breathing was slowly starting to even out and he heard rocks click softly against each other, but he didn’t look up. He’d fucked up too much already, he just wanted to calm down. However, something tapped his arm, and he reluctantly lifted his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold this,” said the mermaid, offering a smooth stone to Grantaire, which he slowly took. “It’ll help calm you down.” He closed his fist around it, rubbing his thumb against the smooth surface, and exhaled softly. “See? It helps! Keep that with you.” Grantaire nodded. “I’m Cosette, and that’s Apollinaire, but call him Enjolras. He prefers our last name.” A pause. “We’re- we’re related.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Grantaire said softly, then let his eyes flit across the two of them. They both had golden-blonde curls and sharp ears, with piercing blue eyes, and Grantaire couldn’t stop staring at Enjolras because </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was so pretty and his face was such a perfect mixture of sharp and soft that Grantaire felt himself turning red and </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit shit shit he was blushing, </span>
  </em>
  <span>look away, that’s awkward, look away. Look away. He stared down at the stone, chewing at his lip. “So, um… are there- are there not any humans?” he asked slowly. “A bunch of people are obsessed with the fact that I’m human, even though someone else here </span>
  <em>
    <span>looks </span>
  </em>
  <span>pretty human, and I don’t know what to do, I just want to go back home. Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand rested near his foot, and R looked up to see Cosette offering a gentle smile. “You mean Bossuet, don’t you? He’s a selkie, he has a seal pelt that he has to wear, and he becomes… </span>
  <em>
    <span>mostly </span>
  </em>
  <span>seal. Apollinaire and I haven’t seen a human before, and a good amount of the others here are probably in the same position. Jehan can probably help you get home though, they’re great with spells! They’re trying to help me, too…” She trailed off and looked down, and Grantaire thought it was best to not question what she meant, since she seemed a bit hesitant to elaborate. “Have you met Marius? He’s Jehan’s helper, he’s lovely, I think…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marius, he’d heard that name. Corduroy overalls, flower crown. “Yeah,” Grantaire nodded. “Look, it’s lovely here, really. I’ve never seen anything like this. But I need to get home… people are probably going to commission me to paint things, and I need to pay my rent…” Enjolras tilted his head with a frown. “We have to, um- landlord. We have to pay to stay in the property they own. It’s weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sounds like robbery. You should be allowed shelter without needing to give someone money. Jehan lets us all stay around here for free,” Enjolras said. “Come on, then. We can talk to Jehan and see what we can do, maybe they can come up with a way to get you home.” Enjolras stood up and pulled Grantaire with him. “Cosette, I’ll be back, okay?” She nodded with a bright smile, and the two of them began to walk back to the cottage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing Grantaire noticed upon re-entering the cottage was that almost everyone else was there, gathered around the table in the main room as Jehan sat and scribbled things down. Slowly he edged closer, Enjolras a few feet away but still by his side, trying to see what was going on. An elbow accidentally jabbed into his side and was accompanied by a rushed apology. He finally managed to catch a peek of what was happening - Jehan was writing separate lists of things. “Okay, I think… yeah. Okay,” they mumbled, then sat back up. “Is Grantaire here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I brought him back,” Enjolras said, a hand on his hip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s this all about?” Grantaire asked with a slight head tilt. A scrap of parchment paper was shoved into his hands, and he raised his eyebrows at it. “What is this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A list of ingredients!” Jehan chirped. “I’ve seen a fair share of humans in my day, and I know some of our plants here are similar to what you have, so I made a list of what we need for a spell to get you back to where you came from. Enjolras will be helping you out. You need to be the one gathering these items, since you’re the one the spell is for, but Enjolras will know where to find them. Everyone else has their duties, you two were the only ones left.” Grantaire looked at the paper, seeing markings he assumed were part of a language, then the English names of plants and items. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras peeked over Grantaire’s shoulder at the list before humming. “C’mon, we need to go to the forest and the market. I’ll pick up a basket from my cottage,” he said, then made his way back outside. Grantaire hurried after him, taking a quick swig from his flask. “Wait outside, I’ll be back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” Grantaire said, causing Enjolras to pause and give him an annoyed look. “Why can’t I come in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because that’s… </span>
  <em>
    <span>intimate,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Enjolras sighed, then disappeared inside the cottage. Grantaire leaned against the doorframe and glanced at his phone, checking the battery idly. 52%. Okay. After a moment, Enjolras emerged with a small wicker basket, and Grantaire held up the list. “What do we need?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need… five dandelions, five fresh rose petals, two grey feathers, a vial of salt, a length of green ribbon, some green jade, and three small twigs. That seems easy enough, right?” Enjolras frowned before checking a small pouch attached to his leg bag. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jade is expensive, and you don’t have money on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do, but not your money. I could probably see if they’d take it, though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras rolled his eyes at Grantaire’s proposition. “Are you going to be like this the whole time? Come along, we need to get things from the forest.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Grantaire frowned as he followed Enjolras toward the trees. “I’m not kidding around!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt they’d take your money if it’s not Maitaran currency. Be serious, Grantaire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjolras, I’m wild. I can’t help it,” Grantaire smiled, then looked at the ground. “Twigs. Hang on.” He knelt down and found three small ones, then placed them in the basket. “This is easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras elected not to respond, his gaze flitting towards the trees. “I don’t know what colour rose petals they’re asking for. Maybe white, or they wouldn’t have asked. They have others at home.” Grantaire nodded, then knelt to pick two dandelions. “We need three more? Okay. C’mon, there’s a patch further in, and there’s a spot where we can find some feathers along the way,” he said, his voice less sharp than before. R nodded again and followed Enjolras deeper into the woods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaf petals fluttered down from the trees around them, landing wherever they liked on the ground and lightly crunching under their feet as they headed through the forest. “Y’know, Cosette was meant to be queen,” Enjolras said off-handedly. A leaf landed in his hair without him realising, and Grantaire decided not to pick it off. If going into his cottage was too intimate, touching his hair would be off limits without a doubt. “She was supposed to rule over Doriexi, which is where the elven people are from.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But she’s a mermaid?” Grantaire said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me finish,” huffed Enjolras. “As I was saying. She was meant to be queen. But this asshole Thénardier that hated her because of something our mother did before she died, he cursed Cosette to be a mermaid. And mermaids are </span>
  <em>
    <span>heavily</span>
  </em>
  <span> discriminated against by most of the elven people, which is </span>
  <em>
    <span>sheer</span>
  </em>
  <span> close-mindedness if you ask me, because mermaids and fae and elves and everyone else all share a common ancestor if you go back far enough, but I digress…” He paused to take a breath. “This tarnished our family name, so much so that I had to appoint a new ruler and we had to flee, or she’d be put to death.” Grantaire covered his mouth. “So Feuilly, who was our helper in the castle ever since we were young, he came with us. We didn’t know Jehan was here, we just… felt called here, you know?” He looked back, and Grantaire nodded. “And we’re working on trying to see if we can turn her back into an elf with a spell, Jehan’s been working on one for a few years.” Enjolras frowned at himself. “But, um, it wouldn’t be bad if Cosette wanted to be a mermaid. She said she wanted to turn back, though, we’re simply doing what we can to make her feel content.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>R hummed in acknowledgement. “That’s good, then, that you care about your sister no matter what. And it’s shitty that your people don’t like mermaids, they’re pretty cool,” he said slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly! Their attitudes toward unfamiliarity are simply uncalled for, mermaids are just like us, but with gills and a tail. Bossuet’s a selkie, which is more or less a link between mermaids and elves, and elven people love selkies. So why won’t they accept mermaids?!” Enjolras yelled, stopping and stamping his foot on the ground, his cheeks flushed from anger and passion. He took a breath. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to go on a tangent like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to apologise,” Grantaire smiled softly, holding his hands up, “you’re welcome to talk about whatever you like, Apollo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tips of Enjolras’ pointed ears burned bright pink, and he pointed a finger at Grantaire as the colour spread across his cheeks. “Don’t call me that. I forbid it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>forbid</span>
  </em>
  <span> it?” Grantaire smirked. “My deepest </span>
  <em>
    <span>Apollo</span>
  </em>
  <span>-gies, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras waved his hands, his face flushing deeper, then stared at the ground. “Get your feathers. They’re right there.” Grantaire looked down and picked up two good-sized, grey feathers, then placed them in the basket. “We still have a bit of ways to go. Come along.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They continued to walk through the trees, and Grantaire quietly watched Enjolras walk from behind. His hair bounced with every step, his ears poked out in the cutest way imaginable, and, well, he wasn’t gonna lie, Enjolras had a nice ass. And sure, he was a bit blunt and standoffish, but Grantaire would be lying if he said it wasn’t endearing. He enjoyed poking fun at him and riling him up just to see him blush, because it was cute, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enjolras was-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s your turn to tell a story, Grantaire,” the elf said, pulling Grantaire from his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Grantaire asked, his brows raising in surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s elven tradition. On long journeys such as this, each member of the travelling party is to tell a story that’s personal to them and shaped them. I’ve told mine, now it’s your turn to tell yours,” Enjolras explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. Fuck, he wasn’t sure what to tell. He didn’t want to talk about anything that deep, opening up was terrifying, and Enjolras was looking back now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was so cute, and an idea popped into Grantaire’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I have the perfect story,” he smiled. “So, I live alone, right? But my friends like to just show up outside my window at random times, because there’s stairs outside them in case of a fire in the building. So, I’m home, working on art and listening to music,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>and drinking,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he didn’t add, “when my friend shows up at my window. Now, keep in mind this is an old-ass building, so the window locks don’t work perfectly, so he manages to get in without me getting up. And he asks if I want to go on an adventure, and I say okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire pauses to take a breath. “So we go and start this adventure, and we’re in the middle of a big-ass field. And we have, like, nothing. So we started looking for trees, and we cut some down for lumber, and we made a nice little hut. And we kept adding onto our hut, and now we have a nice big house with a bunch of armor and dogs that we go to sometimes. Does that work?” he finished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minecraft. He’d made up a story about himself that was just him and his friend playing Minecraft. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras raised his brows, though. “You crafted a house? Just the two of you? Noble,” he smiled, his eyes cast down to the ground. “We’ve arrived, by the way.” Grantaire hummed as he kneeled to pick five petals from a rose bush. “Are you still friends with this person?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. So now the house is just mine,” Grantaire sighed as he pulled three dandelions from the ground, then placed them in the basket. “I don’t really have friends, they all had better people than me to hang out with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why are you so insistent on returning home?” Enjolras asked as they began their journey back. “You don’t have friends, and you have a person robbing you for a basic need that no one should have to pay for. Apologies, but that seems like hell.” Grantaire stared hard at the ground. “We need to go to the market now. The trip shouldn’t be as long, since you know where you’re headed now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire stayed quiet and nodded, Enjolras’ words echoing in his ears. What did he have to go back to? No one had commissioned him, he’d finished up the last one. His family wasn’t talking to him, his friends had all left him, and he didn’t have any pets to go back to. He just needed to pay rent on his shitty apartment with a cold shower and leaky pipes and no air conditioning, and he spent all of his time drinking and playing video games to ignore the fact that he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>lonely. He was fucking alone.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He shook his head at nothing as the path began and the sunlight hit his face, and he sighed. “We need, um… a vial of salt, a length of green ribbon, and green jade. And I can probably talk my way into them accepting my money.” Enjolras rolled his eyes with a faint smile. “What was that, Apollo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras’ cheeks burned bright pink. “I thought I forbid that,” he grumped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not so easily controlled,” Grantaire smiled, then looked ahead to the marketplace. “Okay, help me out here, where do we get what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enjolras simply hummed and walked to the second stall on the right, making soft conversation with the satyr (? was that a satyr or a faun?) behind the counter. “Here’s where you’re getting your ribbon,” Enjolras finally said, paying for it. Grantaire took it with a soft thanks. “Next stall is salt, and then right across from that is jade.” He fished out a coin from his leg bag and pressed it into Grantaire’s hand. “For the salt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire left with a wink and silently purchased his salt vial, feeling all the eyes in the marketplace on him. He knew he was odd here, and he didn’t quite mind that. It was kind of fun. He walked to the final stall he needed to visit, staring at the signs curiously. “Excuse me, which of these is jade?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a young-looking faun behind the counter, and their ears twitched as they looked over. “Oh,” they said, standing up, “can’t you read?” Grantaire shook his head, and the faun sighed. “Jade’s right here. That’s two silver pieces.” Grantaire picked up a tumbled stone, then fished two dimes out of his pocket and handed them over. “The hell’s this?” the faun asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, see,” Grantaire leaned forward, “I’m not from around here. Not from Maitare, or from Doriexi, not anywhere near here. Not even… Ronoi. I’m from a place called Canada, not even from your world, and this is our equivalent to two silver pieces. Help a simple human out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A human!” the faun exclaimed, “well what’re you doing here?! Usually you just bugger off to Ronoi!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jehan’s helping me get home,” Grantaire smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re getting helped by ol’ Jehan,” the faun smiled. “M’kay, human. I’ll take your two silver pieces, but tell Jehan that Monciaux says hello, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will do,” Grantaire smiled, then walked back to Enjolras triumphantly. “I told you I could do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure did,” Enjolras grinned, heading back down the path to Jehan’s cottage. “What’d Monciaux do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were really surprised I was here, and that I hadn’t headed to Ronoi.” Grantaire placed the items in the basket as he walked. “And they wanted me to tell Jehan hi for them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll believe it. He’s a sweet faun, he and Combeferre are friends.” He. Okay. “By the way, it’ll be a few weeks before the spell is ready. Jehan probably has a place for you, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And those few weeks passed quickly. Grantaire found himself warming up to everyone, especially Enjolras and Joly, and he quickly learnt a lot about everyone. However, the day finally came for the spell to be performed, and Jehan approached Grantaire with a tiny smile. “So, um… it’s all done. We’ll be doing our work tonight,” they said, and Grantaire nodded. “Is that okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Grantaire responded, not entirely sure of himself. He wouldn’t have minded staying, to be honest. “So, um, what happens if the spell fails?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then you’re fucked!” Jehan chirped. “But I’m sure it won’t. Don’t worry about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. Grantaire didn’t want to go back to being lonely, to not having anyone to talk to, to just being utterly alone and filling the void with whatever he could. He nodded and went back to the drawing he was working on, a simple sketch of a certain elf he’d taken a liking to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun was soon set over the horizon and the moon was out, shining down into the forest where all of his newfound friends stood. Jehan stood in front of Grantaire, holding a chalice filled with a bubbling, dark liquid, and they offered it to him. “Drink this, and soon you’ll be back home,” they said, their eyes shining bright under the moonlight. Grantaire stepped backwards into the mushroom circle that had transported him here in the first place. He looked down into the chalice and back up, his eyes scanning across everyone in front of him, his mind racing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Courfeyrac, who’d gotten him into this mess by stealing his flask, but ended up being a hilarious friend and a great listener. Combeferre, the smartest person he’d ever met, and probably the sweetest, too. Joly, the hardest working bee boy, who was excellent at patching his friends up and helping them as soon as he could. Bahorel, the bone fae that had made wonderful company through this whole mess, despite Grantaire initially being scared of the bones he’d steal and carry around. Feuilly, who was always bustling around with something to work on and fussing over everything he made, and was still an amazing helper and friend. Bossuet, who was a bit clumsy with his pelt and often misplaced it, but was still optimistic when it was lost. Jehan, who’d helped him through this whole mess, given him food to eat, a place to sleep, charged his phone through some sort of magic, everything Grantaire could have needed through this entire ordeal. And finally, Enjolras, the elf Grantaire had fallen in love with and would do anything for. Where did he even begin? He was b-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grantaire, aren’t you gonna drink it?” Jehan asked, raising an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. “Yeah, sorry, I got lost in thought,” Grantaire mumbled, then slowly drank the liquid. It was bitter, it stung his throat, and he coughed violently once he’d swallowed it down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he stood. He stood, waiting for something to happen, to go back to the forest and away from this beautiful land, to leave everyone and return to being alone. Minutes passed. Leaf petals landed carefully around him. Nothing happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jehan looked worried. “You should’ve been gone by now, um…” They sniffed inside the chalice, then pried open Grantaire’s mouth to peer inside. “Grantaire, you’re sure you wanted to leave, right? If you have any doubts, the spell won’t work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could lie. He could say he wanted to leave, and that Jehan’s spell had simply not worked, and potentially ruin Jehan’s reputation in the village. Or he could be honest, he could admit that he couldn’t leave and go back to a world where no one cared if he was around, where he was barely scraping by to pay his rent, where not even his family cared how he was doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grantaire took in a soft breath. “I don’t think I want to leave,” he blurted, squeezing the chalice between his hands, “no one would notice I’m gone except my landlord. I don’t want to go back to that, I-“ He paused, his gaze landing on Enjolras again. “I want to stay and live here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jehan slowly nodded, a tiny smile etched onto their face. “I figured that was the case. Come along, Grantaire, we need to get you some water and go to bed,” they said, their voice gentle, and they led him back to their cottage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night, he laid on his makeshift bed in the attic, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Had he made the right choice? How would he fare? He quietly turned on his music, the playlist he’d made when he first arrived in that forest, and as he turned over, his eyes slowly closed in sleep. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://soupjolras.tumblr.com/">my tumblr</a><br/>this fic is getting a part two, Just Be Patient</p></blockquote></div></div>
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